


It's a Nice Day for a White Wedding

by DovahDoes



Series: Rook is Actually Just a Tourist Destination AU [2]
Category: Far Cry 3
Genre: (I guess? when Jason sort of spirals a bit but he comes back around), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rook is Actually a Tourist Destination, And yes they are kinda soft in this AU-- bite me, Anxiety, Attempt at Humor, Domestic Fluff, Don't worry tho-- they're still assholes the entire time :], Established Relationship, Fluff, Honeymoon, Humor, Hurk is mentioned, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Once we get to those last 2 chapters, Or at least an, Smut, Some feels, Surprisingly enough not a lot of, The boys already bicker like an old married couple so..., They DO still give each other shit constantly tho bc it's ~part of their characters~, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings, Weddings, a moment of, love that guy..., there will be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovahDoes/pseuds/DovahDoes
Summary: I sawthis(but thought about marriage instead??) shortly after a commenter asked about Vaason's wedding hijinks in my AU, so here's this fic.ORJason essentially double-dog dares Vaas to marry him and Vaas calls him on his bluff (and then theyactuallyhave to plan the wedding, it turns out).*Chapters1.Proposal2.Venue3.Wedding4.Honeymoon*[Ch. 1 Excerpt]“Iamreading, you dick.  Don’t think that backhanded compli-… oh.”Chuckling, Vaas hands the envelope back over to Jason, who has finally caught up with the program, eyes riveted on the lower left corner of the plain piece of stationary.“Oh,” he says, again, not entirely on purpose as the microwave goes off somewhere in the distance.His fingers smooth over the rounded, paper borders to the little cellophane rectangle that shows his mailing info on the letterhead underneath.  Printed in plain, black typeface, just above their bungalow’s address are the words ‘Jason Montenegro’.*
Relationships: Jason Brody/Vaas Montenegro
Series: Rook is Actually Just a Tourist Destination AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/994908
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking at this half-written fic for nearly a _year_. Please, god, take this WIP away from my eyes-- I'm sick of looking at it. lol
> 
> So uh, yeah. This fic was kicked off by a comment last year on [Say, Say, Say](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16911105) where someone remarked that the path to getting married must have been full of hijinks galore for these two. And then I got mental health-driven writer's block for a calendar year. Until fresh validation (aka. a nice comment) a few weeks ago reminded me that I like to write fanfiction. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> TL;DR- Started writing it, had a breakdown, got a kind review, bone-apple-tee.  
> *
> 
> In terms of timeline in this AU, this probably takes place... mm, let's say a year and a half or so into Jason's time on Rook, bc they move FAST, BABY. 😎 Let's be honest: they're both impulsive af, so they _would_ get married after, like, 1 year.

The sound of keys landing in the ceramic bowl jolts Jason up out of the tense, concentrated fugue he has settled into while re-playing Until Dawn in the living room.

“Shit!” he gasps, heart racing as he completely fumbles a pivotal quick-time event in-game that sees his fleeing character nearly meet a grisly, untimely end.

Exhaling a strong breath, he blinks his somewhat tired eyes and puts aside the controller while the game remains paused. (God knows his nerves are too shot, now, to successfully finish the chase scene.)

His heart is still slowing back to its usual rate when the unhurried clomping of Vaas’ thick-soled hiking boots draws closer after having briefly paused outside the entryway of the kitchen. With a grin, Jason tips his head back on the couch and watches as distracted-looking boyfriend strolls through the doorway that connects the kitchen to the living room.

The Rook native’s eyes dart over one of the pieces of mail in his hands before his eyebrows wrinkle, momentarily, in confusion. Straightening the scant pile of mail, Vaas’s eyes meet Jason’s as he comes to a stop at the back of the garishly brightly-coloured settee.

“Hello, Cariño,” he murmurs, lovingly, leaning down to press a brief, upside-down kiss to Jason’s upturned lips before moving to lean on the back of the couch to the younger man’s left. “Going by the evidence in the dishrack, I see you made a valiant effort to ‘whip something up’ when you got home, huh? I’m getting hints of… burnt milk… or cream? Maybe some notes of scorched pasta, too?”

With a put-upon sigh at the age-old ‘what did you burn today?’ routine, Jason turns an unimpressed stare to Vaas, who pays him back by promptly dropping three envelopes onto his lap with a shit-eating grin. In spite of himself, the younger of the two can scarcely mask the way his lips want to twitch up into a smile at his hyper-gregarious partner’s antics, eventually elaborating on the ill-fated meal as he regathers the haphazardly dropped envelopes.

“It was _supposed to be m_ ac and cheese. I, uh, kept the stove on high to cook everything faster, but… yeah. Total loss, so I just had some leftovers from dinner last night. Still a bunch left in the fridge if you want some, too.”

Looking pleasantly surprised that Jason had managed to remove nearly all evidence (save for the scent and the blackened cookware) of the burned meal without incident, Vaas makes an intrigued 'ah' as Jason addresses the newest issue at hand.

“And what the hell’s with the old mail? Thought I picked it up, like yesterday.”

Chuckling, Vaas leans forward and snatches two of the three pieces of post, tapping Jason in the chest with them, briefly.

“Yes, you did,” he replies. “But clearly, you didn’t _look_ at it.”

Getting a bit irate, now, Jason takes a hold of both envelopes and feels Vaas push off the back of the couch to clomp back into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he calls, absently, while moving his controller to the coffee table. “Shoes! I just swept in there yesterday.”

A rubber sole squeaks on the linoleum floor.

“… oops. Keep forgetting we’re doing that, now.”

Footfalls retreat to the discrete mat behind the front door and return with the distinct mutedness of socked feet. Then, while the domestic white noise of the fridge door opening and closing washes over him, the American expat squints at the two pieces of mail, noticing nothing amiss.

One looks like a generic spam mailer. The other is from the slightly fancier hospital (the one closer to the resorts and tourist traps), likely containing a bill for his recent visit, when a panicking tandem skydiver had bruised his ribs while flailing around.

Jason frowns, feeling another tick of irritation cross his mind: what exactly is he supposed to be seeing, here? If this is just Vaas trolling him, again, he’s going to be _incredibly_ pissed; his patience has dwindled after being ordered to take 2 weeks off from any strenuous aerial activity by the doctor at the hospital.

The microwave’s door slams shut, and then a series of beeps precedes its loud, gritty hum as his boyfriend reheats his dinner in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the two letters still just look like every other letter he’s ever received.

His moodiness is increasing exponentially.

“I—… is this some really fucking weird prank? Because these look perfectly fine! I mean, I should probably check the invoice from the hospital, in case insurance didn’t pay for everything, after all. Fucking Hoyt’s bare minimum health insurance options...”

Muttering to himself about the company head’s shoddy ‘efforts’ at providing health coverage for his employees, Jason begins ripping open the hospital invoice along the envelope’s short side.

Absorbed as he is with his task, he doesn’t register Vaas’ arm reaching over his shoulder until his work is forcibly stopped.

“Jason. Mi amor,” Vaas says in a quiet, overly patient tone. “Por _Dios_ : **_lea_**. You Brody’s were well off, but not enough to bribe your college for those two degrees.”

[( _Por Dios: lea_ – For _God’s sake_ : **_read_**.)]

Still not following, and a bit ticked at the one-liner about his secondary education, he shoots an exasperated look at his boyfriend before frustratedly looking back down.

“I _am_ reading, you dick. Don’t think that backhanded compli-… oh.”

Chuckling, Vaas hands the envelope back over to Jason, who has finally caught up with the program, eyes riveted on the lower left corner of the plain piece of stationary.

“ _Oh_ ,” he says, again, not entirely on purpose as the microwave goes off somewhere in the distance.

His fingers smooth over the rounded, paper borders to the little cellophane rectangle that shows his mailing info on the letterhead underneath. Printed in plain, black typeface, just above their bungalow’s address are the words ‘Jason Montenegro’.

There are several sarcastic, snippy comments he could make, but for some reason, none of them quite make it from his brain to his mouth. Instead, his attention is hyper-focused on the relatively minor clerical mistake spelled out on the off-white copy paper in his hands.

As he reads and rereads the two familiar groups of letters set in this novel configuration, something swoops in his stomach and he almost expects it to end up in a nauseous feeling like he hasn’t felt since his very first time skydiving, nearly a decade ago. Instead, it swiftly blossoms into an achingly warm, wistful feeling of delighted surprise that he wrestles to keep from manifesting as one of his ‘cute, dopey’ smiles, as Vaas refers to them.

Speaking of Vaas, Jason realizes that he completely lost the thread of whatever he’d been about to say, earlier, right in the middle of a sentence. Blinking rapidly for a millisecond, he straightens up and tries to recall just what the _hell_ he’d been getting worked up about earlier.

'Earlier' being the somewhat hazy time before he’d been ambushed by the thought of (or, more accurately, the _desire_ ) of taking his partner’s last name in a legally binding,way.

“How— uh…. how’d they mix up my name like that? Pretty sure _I_ was admitted and not you, so did they just… maybe it’s because the house is in your name or something?”

The words are coming out of his mouth, distracted though he may sound, but his mind is spinning even faster, now.

Because of _course_ he’s thought about marriage, even in a _previous_ relationship: for a moment, before he’d switched minors and spent that summer getting all his piloting, skydiving, and instructing licenses, his mother had started dropping hints about him and Lisa, much to his trepidation.

He'd tried to imagine a future-- _any_ future with her, and... well, it hadn’t even been half a year after that when they’d broken up.

In any case, he _has_ mused about marrying Vaas, specifically (and happily), but this whole hospital invoice…. ‘incident’ is throwing the whole timeline of events he’d half-imagined _completely_ out of whack; they were supposed to have an anniversary, have some stupid-hot sex (as usual), and then when his sometimes difficult-to-pin-down partner was suitably mellowed out, Jason would bring up how he’s been kind of fantasizing about them wearing matching rings one day soon.

Hell, he knows Vaas loves him and that _he_ loves Vaas, but conveying that he’s pretty sure he’s actually _ready_ , mentally and emotionally, for that next, highest level of commitment has seemed like an impossible thing to just _jump into_ out of nowhere.

And _whoops_ , Vaas has started talking while he’d been having a minor mental crisis, not even leaving the kitchen to do so-- his voice occasionally muffled by a cabinet or the fridge door while he looks for utensils and seasoning and who-knows-what-else.

“…Jason, because you were higher than the planes you jump out of all week when you were admitted. By the time I got there— and you’re _welcome_ for reminding you to switch your emergency contact to _me_ instead of your older brother who lives 50 time-zones away, in a different fucking hemisphere— they weren’t letting anyone but immediate family back to see you.

“ _Shit_ , I was worried as fuck, of course, so I just said we’re married. Pretty sure I told them to _hyphenate_ the name, though, so _that’s_ disrespectful.”

At the phrase ‘…said we’re married’, the younger of the two, again, grapples with a host of varying thoughts, and ends up feeling bewildered, anxious, grateful, impressed, annoyed, and (again) _wistful_ at the same time.

The annoyance is easiest to express.

“Wait, you did _what_? What if you’d been caught? Hell, what if this messes up me trying to pay down the rest of this balance because the name on my card _doesn’t match the name on the account_? I’m already clearly not from this island— what if this gets me deported or someth-”

“ _Jason! Mira_ , none of that is going to happen! It was just a hospital visit and you didn’t even stay overnight. I’ve _been_ to that hospital— their administrative staff is sub-par at best, so no-one’s even gonna find out. Even the insurance side will fix itself, once they run your birth date and match it to your full name."

[( _Mira_ – _Look_ , )]

With a groan, Jason finally turns around fully in his seat, kneeling on the overstuffed couch cushion to face backwards toward his boyfriend, who is still leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, holding onto a still-steaming tupperware container of last night’s spinach and beef penne. In spite of the warm, delicious-smelling meal, though, he looks tense— almost cagey— especially when Jason dives right back into where he'd left off a minute earlier.

“Isn’t this insurance fraud? What the _fuck,_ Vaas? I mean… this is my first time really _having_ my own health insurance, but don’t we have to _fix_ this, somehow, before it blows up in our faces? And won’t this do something to my credit score? I don’t really know what that is, but this _can’t_ be good for it, right? _Shit_. Oh, _man_.”

At this point, any initial elation and intrigue have tumbled into the abyss and left behind their shadows: worry and confusion. (Later on, Jason will attribute much of the current rollercoaster of emotions giving him whiplash to having played a horror game that notoriously puts him on edge for a few hours afterward.)

Presently, however, he _is_ exasperated enough that he sits back down on his heels and crosses his arms on the back of the couch before dropping his head onto them.

“Well,” Vaas serenely says with an affected air of calm, “There’s always _actually_ changing your name, if you’re too much of a pussy to just call and tell them they made a simple clerical error with your name, hm?”

The clacking of a fork on the plastic container in the Rook native’s hands as he unhurriedly begins eating his long-awaited dinner prompts Jason to raise his face from his arms to level him with a miffed glare.

And look, he _knows_ he’s overreacting, alright? But Vaas doesn’t have to just _rub in_ being logical to antagonize him, like usual: he’s had too long of a week and a half with restricted activity thanks to his freshly-healed ribs to keep himself from getting pissy, right now.

“ _Fine_ , Montenegro— you got me: I _don’t_ wanna have to call if I don’t have to. Remember how half those military guys at South’s World War II history attractions got their visas yanked because of some misprint on their applications? Yeah.”

Rolling his eyes, he huffs out a breath and runs a hand through his hair, quite likely leaving some to stand on end as he continues.

“What do you want me to do— go to the municipal building and pay the fee to file for a name change? That place is a _nightmare_ for any non-citizens. Only way for me to ‘fix my name’, is if _you actually marry me,_ asshole, so thanks for the advice.”

During Jason’s little rant, Vaas’ expression had gotten more and more stormy, before eventually morphing into a familiar mieu of almost malicious faux-patience. (With how often he’s seen it made during their arguments, Jason’s pretty sure Vaas does it because he knows it annoys the living _shit_ out him.)

And then the brewing tempest behind expressive, jade-green eyes clears up as suddenly as one of the ephemeral, passing rain systems the islands are known for.

Placing his bowl down on the countertop beneath the cabinet full of glasswear that Jason’s head had banged into the very first time they kissed, Vaas simply cocks his head a little to one side, assessingly, and utters one, perplexing word.

“…okay.”

Taken aback, Jason’s comeback sort of dies on his tongue at the placid, deliberately light tone— a tone he's slow to recall as the one his boyfriend uses just before delivering the killing blow in a debate or disagreement. But how exactly is Vaas planning to come out on top in this instance?

“I— ‘okay’? ‘Okay’… _what_?” he asks, cautiously, utterly lost again.

The only answer he receives is the sound of Vaas’ bland protein powders’ containers being moved around in a cupboard next to the pantry. The older man doesn’t clarify what he’d meant or what he’s doing, instead pocketing something from some undoubtedly hard-to-reach spot that Jason would clearly have no reason to go digging in.

Jason’s brows are furrowed as he watches his lover then backtrack to his earlier position just behind the couch, kneel down, and then pull out a small, wooden box detailed with intricate carvings in the style of the Rakyat’s artwork.

Everything about this is _majorly_ tripping his 'chaotic Vaas' sense, and he’s uneasy about whatever the hell is going on.

“I swear to _God_ , Vaas, if you’re trying to get me to do ecstasy on a weeknight, again, I will—”

Vaas pops open the top lid of the box and reveals something _far_ wilder than any drug the younger man could have possibly imagined. Immediately, the poleaxed Californian has to work hard to focus on anything other than the glinting silvery band nestled in green velvet, because there are words being spoken to him and hopeful, intense eyes meeting his.

“Jason Anthony Brody _, e_ res el amor de mi vida. Quiero ser tuyo por siempre, si tu serás mio.Will you marry me _,_ you absolutely beautiful moron _?”_

[( _…eres el amor de mi vida._ _Quiero ser tuyo por siempre,_ _si tu serás mio_. - ….you are the love of my life. I want to be yours, forever, if you’ll be mine.)]

Absently, as his heart pounds and his vision continues to swim for a second for how _blindsided_ he is, the middle Brody sibling quickly concludes that this is _not_ a prank— not with a look _that_ unintentionally vulnerable on his boyfriend’s face, anyway. Even in their most intimate, honest moments, it takes a lot for Vaas to really let himself be seen or to open himself up to potential hurt, especially considering his history with the Rakyat side of his family.

The eerie, ambient pause menu music for the video game behind him is inaudible due to the blood rushing in his ears, and all he can focus on, again, is the glint of the thin, silvery band in its tiny bed of soft, dark fabric.

In an abrupt snap, his higher faculties return to him, and without pausing to overthink or allow himself to fall back into his earlier spiral of thoughts, Jason fully re-engages.

His wide eyes search Vaas’ and he manages to gasp out a thready “I— _what_? _Where did you_ … of fucking _course_ I will, you asshole!”

And _God_ , _why are his eyes watering_ and _why is his voice choked up_?

The vulnerable hope and rare hint of apprehension behind Vaas’ still-intimidating stare completely vanish and he stands back up to properly slip the slim, platinum band onto his new fiancé's ring finger.

Oh, right— it’s the _happiness_ , Jason figures, not even trying to hide what must be an earsplitting version of his usual dopey, love-induced smile.

“ _Fuck_ , Jason,” Vaas says, sporting a rare, unabashedly boyish grin while standing up to admire the ring on his partner’s hand. “ _Thank you_. Could have gone wrong, what with it being a month before when I actually meant to propose, but… _wow_. _Wow._ ”

Elated, and blushing like he hasn’t since he can remember, Jason laughs and returns Vaas’ earlier sentiment, cheeks subtly dried from any never-to-be-mentioned stray tears, eyes still glittering with effusive joy.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too, you crazy person. Now c’mere— I’m a bit too tired to consummate anything, but I _would_ like a few minutes on the couch with my boyf— with my _fiancé_.”

“What a coincidence,” his _future spouse_ replies, slyly. “So would I, future _Mr. Montenegro-Brody_.”

Pocketing the empty box he’d built from scratch and carved over the last 2 or so months during his free time, Vaas pulls Jason in for a sweet, intensely heated kiss using his hands to frame a habitually stubbled jaw and cheeks for leverage. 

Leaning out of the embrace for a quick second, he replies, belatedly with "That's _Brody-Montenegro_ and you know it." 

Then, with a mischievous smirk, Jason pulls a laughing Vaas over the back of the couch and half onto his lap with a grunt that’s quickly swallowed up by the pair of lips angling to steal all of his air again.

_Holy fuck— he’s engaged._ And fuck— he’s gonna have to help plan a wedding, but also, all of those things can wait until _after_ they both make it off of the living room couch, probably.

( _God_ Hoyt’s gonna be _so_ pissed about all the new paperwork, he just _knows_ it.)

*

(And yes, they _do_ go to the courthouse to actually make good on Vaas' word. Thankfully, marriage-based name changes go through pretty quickly, too, not that anyone at the hospital ever actually caught on in the first place)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jason’s mom is pissed they went off and eloped without a word to anyone. Grant and Riley both find that absolutely hilarious because Jason 'middle-child' Brody is rarely on her shitlist, and it's his new husband that got him in trouble, too.  
> ~~
> 
> (Oh-- and because I'm annoying, [here's](https://imgur.com/a/TEynGzg) the engagement ring. It's basic, but there it is...)


	2. The Venue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half of this is old, half of this was written in a (literally) feverish state. lol

Although both of them are thrilled to have tied the knot, it doesn’t take a long time to realize that they still have to actually _plan_ the version of it for others to attend. (Something that Jason’s mother had reminded them of when he'd called to tell her the news about the engagement and their shotgun-style courthouse wedding.)

Thankfully, there is no shortage of acquaintances and co-workers who have experience in the area of wedding planning in spades. In fact, Carlos is good friends with one of Rook Islands Experience’s two wedding coordinators, so they negotiate a fee that is almost obscenely low (but which is more than the $0 one the woman had tried insisting on, initially, by citing a ‘friends and family’ 100% discount).

One of the things she gives them free rein on (besides different portions of the actual wedding ceremony itself) is choosing the venue. Mostly because, already feeling leery of Hoyt trying to stick his nose into their business, they’d quickly opted out of using one of the several 'official' sites that the company uses for its destination wedding packages. Thankfully, people have been getting married since long before either of the big two vacation conglomerates had existed, so there’s no shortage of interesting or breathtakingly beautiful locations to be found.

To be safe, they tentatively set the date a few months out to give Jason’s mother and his rather limited extended family time to make arrangements to travel. They also start to hash out their honeymoon plans, but put them off for a later date, since they both have quite a bit of unused vacation time accrued, at this point, and have already had HR pre-approve the PTO.

What they end up getting stuck on, ironically, out of all the different portions of the planning, is that looming question of the venue. (Luckily, since theirs is a ‘destination’ wedding, technically, for a number of the guests, they sidestep mentioning _where_ exactly on the island the event will go down.)

It turns out that pretty much every islander, their grandma, and their auntie’s side-piece has suggestions of where to hold their ceremony and/or reception; in little time, they visit what feels like literally _every_ scenic location on _both_ islands. 

Hell, Vaas even learns about some places he’s never heard of during this process, which he’d thought was kind of impossible given he’d grown up on said islands which really aren’t all _that_ large.

Still, after two and a half weeks of being tugged in every which direction during their free time, trying to find an ‘off-book’ location where they can hold their ceremony quickly goes from exciting to exhausting to deeply frustrating. They start to feel a bit more of the pressure that their amazing wedding planner, Jennifer (or ‘Sophie’ as Vaas mistakenly calls her), has managed to keep away from them until now by just making most of their decisions for them, as per their initial requests.

In a bid to just finally end the clusterfuck that the process is becoming, they sit down one night and regroup over bowls of dressed up ramen in the cramped breakfast nook.

“Jesus fuck— Hoyt’s been up our asses these last few days. He’d better not be making a stink about us taking a week off of work when he already signed off on the time two weeks ago…” Vaas says, while pointedly ignoring yet another emailed request for a meeting with the company head.

Completely comfortable with blowing his attempted communiqué off after knowing the older man for nearly a decade, Vaas _does at_ least mark the message with a star so he can come back to it later, if he remembers.

“Seriously,” Jason chimes in. “I keep hearing he’s looking for me or both of us, but I’ve been doing those online seminars for that new cert during my spare time, so it’s been like two ships passing in the night, since Monday.”

Making a sound of acknowledgement, Vaas puts his phone back facedown on the table before using his chopsticks to transfer the bits of floating green onion from the top of his fiancé’s steaming bowl of soup to his own already well-garnished share of dinner. (Jason likes the taste scallion brings to the ramen when he makes it, but abhors actually eating it— something his fiancé has used to benefit his totally adverse partiality to the vegetable.)

Vaas adds a bit of their homemade chili oil to his broth before unconcernedly mixing it around a bit. “Eh. The old guy’ll eventually just come find us, himself, if it’s that important. What we _really_ need to figure out, Jason, is _where the fuck on these islands we are going to be exchanging our vows_ , again. Gotta make your mama happy, but I’m also not trying to have to do serious jungle-trekking on a day off, or get sand in my good shoes, _or_ have to get a clearance from Citra and the Rakyat elders to use some ancient temple’s grounds or something.

“You got any new places in mind? Maybe that crazy guy doing the show about the weird wildlife on Rook— Hank? Hurk?— knows somewhere else we haven’t heard of?”

With a frown twisting at his lips at the mention of the chaotic ‘entrepreneur of not-yet marketable ideas’ (a self-given title), Hurk, Jason waves off the idea and rests his chin on his palm, elbow planted on the table the way he’d specifically been taught not to do as a kid.

Gazing blankly at a random point in front of him, he stirs absentmindedly at the translucent broth he’s almost completely emptied of all its noodles.

“Nah. That guy’s pretty cool to do hang out with and all, but I’m pretty sure he’s certifiably insane— not sure his ideas’d be the safest, which is saying something if _I’ve_ come to that conclusion. That time with the wild monkeys stealing the live, antique grenade was just too much….”

Vaas chuckles and raises an eyebrow before going back to loudly slurping an impressive amount of noodles up with assistance from his chopsticks. The resulting stray cluster of splattered liquid in the middle of the table quickly disappears into the spare napkin that Jason drops over the entire area.

Somehow, he gets the feeling there’s something he’d meant to mention, but it’s _just_ at the edge of his mind, where he’s trying to access that niggling _something_ , the same way he’s trawling his spoon at his bowl’s edges hoping to find some leftover bits of egg.

His eyes light up when the thought suddenly flares back to life and he immediately picks his head up so he can use the hand it’d been resting on to retrieve his phone from his back pocket.

“ _Actually_ ,” he says, unlocking his phone and scrolling through his conversations with his Californian group of friends and family. “Daisy sent me something, yesterday, but I only saw the preview of the message and forgot to actually read it. Hold on…”

Using one hand to handle the bowl, he lifts it to his lips and tilts it enough that he can drink some of the savoury liquid still left at its bottom. That finished, he pushes the bowl aside and puts his full attention on his phone, finally opening up the message from his brother’s long-time girlfriend, Daisy.

“Mm,” Vaas grunts while he demolishes the large portion of beef he’d made for the ramen. “What’s she saying? Still attached with ' _Agnes Emilia_ ' at the virtual hip, while she’s stuck in the States?”

Jason’s eyes dart to and fro as he scrolls down the lengthy message and its several attached pictures. Daisy had become very fast friends with Emily, the daughter of Dr. Earnhardt (once the source of much of the island’s plant-based, pharmaceutical breakthroughs), when they bonded over their shared passion for sailing and nautical adventure. The close friendship has stuck, even throughout the months between Grant and Daisy’s visits.

“Huh? Oh— well, speaking of _Emily_ (and _why_ do you use her first name?), Daisy forwarded a message from her with an idea for a location; the pictures actually… don’t look bad at all. Would just have to work out pricing with the property owner, which probably wouldn’t be hard…

“It’s actually Doc Earnhardt’s mansion, up near those west-facing cliffs. Here, look—”

Reaching across the table, he turns his phone upside down and allows Vaas to scroll through the pictures of the large property and its surrounding sights and viewpoints of not only the sea, but of the grassy hills sloping into sprawling jungle cut through with azure blue rivers, too, in the opposite direction.

Vaas looks pleasantly surprised.

“Huh,” he says, laying his chopsticks down to instead wipe up around the bowl at the droplets of soup he’d gotten everywhere. “That is… a _lot_ nicer than I remember. Never would have evn thought to suggest it. That little pond and walkway with the flowers around it is pretty nice, and there’s even a gazebo on the grounds, already. Might just have to contribute to some renovations, ahead of time, so the first stiff sea-breeze doesn’t knock those loose shingles, there, onto one of your aunties’ heads.

Cackling, Vaas slides Jason’s phone back over and then leans forward, eagerly.

“But for real— are you going to message her back? This might just solve one of our biggest time-sucks, finally. I am _so_ fucking tired of looking at pictures of every last nook and cranny of these islands, as photogenic as they might be.”

Already fully absorbed in responding to Daisy, Jason nods in response to Vaas’ initial query **.**

“Yeah. Doing it right now…. gonna have her forward me Emily’s info so we can just coordinate with her and, I guess, the Doc. _God_ , finally. I hope this is the end of the venue hunt. You free this Sunday, if we can find time to go tour the place?”

With a mouth full of protein and his head half-bowed, the older man gives a thumbs up and a muffled ‘nnh-hghm’ into his dinner that has Jason quirking a bemused grin as he sits back in his seat to continue typing out his message, tangling his long legs with his fiancé’s in their cramped little corner of the kitchen.

*

On the subject of their upcoming nuptials, Dr. Earnhardt has turned out to be a real sentimental old softie, in spite of the initial slew of questions he’d asked while vetting Jason and Vaas. Turns out that once upon a time, he’d married his wife on the grounds of a sprawling, Folk Victorian-style house (similar to this one) back in England.

While the venue’s owner keeps waxing nostalgic, Vaas turns to his partner and says sotto voce, “When was this? Back in the late 1800’s? Before or _after_ World War One?”

Cutting a quick glance forward to their guide, who is still facing away and musing aloud about days gone by, Jason then shoots a disbelieving glare at his lover, whispering heatedly at the Rook native.

“ _Jesus_ , Vaas, shut the fuck _up_. He’s doing a us a huge favor, here, but it’s not part of any of Hoyt’s shit, so there’s no guarantee of how much or how little he’ll charge us. Plus, _you_ were the one that really liked the pictures of this place, remember?”

The scarred eyebrow being raised at the Californian expat is expected, but still obnoxious.

“Yeah, because I’m shocked how good this place looks after me and my friends used to egg it all the time when we were kids. Hard to notice how nice a place is when you’re being a little asshole, I guess,” Vaas retorts, his mouth tilted up at the corners and eyes alight with a spark of mirth.

He is, at least, still murmuring at a level that the eldest member of their party is unlikely to be able to hear as he walks along the relatively well-kept path ahead of them. Said footpath winds its way through lush, green grass and also separates two gorgeous, flora-surrounded ponds on its way up to the house’s front entrance.

In lieu of answering, Jason rolls his eyes and half-jogs a few steps forward to catch up to Doc Earnhardt, trusting Vaas to quickly get his shit together since they’ve clearly almost reached the end of their tour of the grounds.

Meanwhile, having seemingly remained oblivious of the hushed conversation that had taken place behind him, the doctor continues talking.

“... could probably do with a spot more landscaping and freshening up, of course, but I’ve no reason to keep it impeccable for myself and the dogs, nor for the occasional visit from Agnes.”

When his feet reach the steps leading up to the front porch, the bespectacled man turns about in place to face the young couple with raised eyebrows, as if taken by surprise by arriving back at his own front doors.

“Oh! Well here we are, again: that’s it, boys! What do you think?”

The reedy voice sounds hopeful in a suitably measured way, but the gleam in powder blue eyes betrays exactly how much he’s invested in the possibility of the wedding taking place on the grounds of his home.

Jason and Vaas hardly have to meet eyes for a quick moment before looking back into the doctor’s earnest, wizened features. Jason sports a genuine smile, and his fiancé, a moderated version of his pleased smirk.

“Well, Doc,” Jason says. “I think we’d better start looking into those renovations, huh? It's not too long before everything's due to go down.”

The almost giddy joy that Doc Earnhardt tries to repress and contain to just a beaming smile accompanying a hearty round of hand-shakes and bracing backslapping of the two future newlyweds is impossibly contagious.

Now all that’s left is to do the damn thing, here, in a few months’ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't really proofread, so sorry for any dumb mistakes. And as far as the last 2 chapters go, the wedding chapter has 1-2k written already, but I kind of feel like scrapping it and starting from scratch.
> 
> The honeymoon chapter is loosely outlined, and will probably be the shortest of all the chapters. Lol. I think it'll probably have 2 separate little smutty scenes, from what I remember, with other little happenings to pad it out.
> 
> *
> 
> Come check out [my writing blog](https://dovahdoes.tumblr.com/), where I post early fic snippets and keep you updated on what i'm working on in what fandoms!
> 
>   
> Kudos and comments are love: feel free to leave me some, kind readers~. (ღˇ◡ˇ)~♥


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